I’ve always wanted to start my own thing—something creative, something meaningful, or simply something that lets me connect with people who share my passions. We often hear the phrase, “I want to start my own thing,” tossed around in conversations. The truth is, all of us have abilities and experiences that others could benefit from, as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow beautifully put it:
“Give what you have. To someone, it may be better than you dare to think.”
But the hardest part isn’t the idea itself—it’s getting past those trenches of anxiety, self-doubt, and self-criticism that hold us back. Recently, I stumbled onto Austin Kleon’s fantastic book, Show Your Work. It flips the way you look at creative output on its head. The following is a reflection on what I learned—it resonated with me deeply, and I hope you find something valuable here, too.
There are countless myths about creativity, but the most dangerous is the so-called “lone genius” myth. Kleon highlights a concept by musician Brian Eno called scenius—the idea that creative breakthroughs usually arise from a group of interconnected individuals: artists, thinkers, curators, and tastemakers forming an “ecology of talent.” Look back in history, and people we think of as lone geniuses were usually part of a much larger creative scene, lifting each other up, critiquing, collaborating, and sharing ideas. Evolution doesn’t happen in a vacuum, and neither does creativity. It’s why we’ve seen eras like Pop in the 1940s, Rock and Roll in the 1950s in America, and, as The Hindu once wrote, EDM in India from 2009-2019, driven by festivals like Go:MadrasX and Sunburn. (Side note: EDM seems to be music best enjoyed slightly out of one’s mind—just being honest.) Want a modern scenius? Think of the “PayPal Mafia.”
But what’s so beautiful about scenius is that it makes room for all of us—the so-called “non-geniuses.” The internet itself is just a sprawling network of sceniuses, transcending geography. Here I am, adding my small piece to the puzzle as an amateur.
We’re all afraid of being “outed” as amateurs. Yet, it’s the amateur—the true enthusiast, working for the love of it (the word is rooted in the French for “lover”)—who brings fresh energy wherever they go. Amateurs aren’t weighed down by expectations of fame, money, or career. Their minds brim with possibilities. They’re free to experiment, take risks, and look silly—because they have little to lose. People might see you as someone randomly dabbling, but as Clay Shirky writes in Cognitive Surplus,
“The stupidest possible creative act is still a creative act.”
We’re taught to work for others, and there’s nothing wrong with that—but it’s vital to have a creative space that’s truly ours. We should make a habit of working on our own ideas, no matter how small. Facebook asks, “What’s on your mind?” Dribbble takes it further: “What are you working on?”
The best time to start was yesterday. The second best is right now. Let’s silence our doubts and stop merely playing roles in other people’s productions. Let’s “think out loud” with raw, infectious enthusiasm. Let’s start our own show. Who knows? We might just become “The Greatest Showman.”